


Who we are, who we have been

by Anonymous



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Bull is still a bit intimidated by Tamassrans, Bull makes a friend, Bull-centric, Gen, Graphic depictions of violence in chapter 4, I repeat the romance is slow burn, Kidfic, M/M, Tal-Vashoth Iron Bull, The romance is slow burn, Vivienne is chuffed about recent developments, post-storm coast blues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-08-19 07:21:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16530029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Bull is left adrift after the Dreadnought sinks. His friends, supportive and concerned, can't seem to help him out of his rut.Then the Tamassran shows up.





	1. The Tamassran

**Author's Note:**

> Please see end notes for details.

When the Dreadnought sank, the Iron Bull felt it like the severing of a limb. Beyond the grief and the guilt was a sharp, sudden snap as the man he was separated forever from the man he had been. His place in the grand design would be filled by another, but Bull would never find a replacement for the Qun. He was adrift. A danger to others and himself.

Gatt had looked at Bull with such pain as he left, the tears on his face mixing with the rain. No outlet for his anger. Adaar had kept them moving, keen to get them off the coast as soon as possible, hoping to avoid reprisal. He was a good man, but he didn’t understand the Qun. Didn’t know the difference between those who had left and those who had always been without. Bull was alone in that storm. A week later, the Qun would confirm it.

Two months after that, on a warm, autumn day, the Tamassran arrived at Skyhold.

 

* * *

 

 

“You’re not going to believe this,” Krem said.

He threw himself into the chair opposite Bull, rattling the table between them and upsetting Bull’s soup. Bull gave a dry look at the spill before looking up to Krem with the same expression. Krem grinned in reply.

“What am I not going to believe?” Bull asked.

He took a sip of his soup. It was thin, and bland.

“Two Qunari just arrived at the front gates,” Krem said. “They want to join the Inquisition, they’re talking to the Inquisitor right now.”

“Not Qunari, Vashoth,” Bull said.

“A woman with horns like a Highland Ravager, and someone in a cloak. Quite short, for one of your lot.”

“We do come in more than one size, Krem…”

“I’ve yet to see the proof.”

Bull nodded, conceding the point. He had another spoonful of soup. After a moment he realised that Krem wasn’t moving. He was sitting at the table, hands braced on the wood, ready to push off, and looking at Bull like he was mad.

“Don’t you want to see?” Krem asked. “More Qunari have-“

“Vashoth.”

“More Vashoth have joined the Inquisition! They could be spies! They could be anyone! Don’t you want to know?”

“Red will sort it out.”

Krem’s nose wrinkled. He stood up from the table.

“Chief,” he said. “You will get up off your fat arse right now, or I will drag you out of this tavern myself.”

“I haven’t finished my soup.”

“That’s not soup, it’s dishwater, and if you keep forcing the cooks to make it, I’m going to have the Inquisitor pass judgement on you.”

“It’s a broth…”

“Get up.”

Bull, even in the thralls of his dark fugue, knew a lost battle when he saw one. He levered himself up and left his vegetable water for Cabot to dispose of. The dingy lighting of the pub gave way to bright, hateful daylight. He had to blink for a few moments to get the sunspots from his eyes.

By the time he had, there was a woman standing in front of him. They were of an age. She held herself with the good posture of an Orlesian noble, combined with the steady bearing of a mercenary. Her skin was a cool, pale grey and she did, indeed, have the horns of a Highland Ravager.

She looked him over with curious, careful regard, before her lips turned up into a small, relieved smile.

“The Iron Bull,” she said, sounding out the words slowly. “I believe we have met before, under a different name.”

There was something familiar about her, though the details eluded him. Seheron, he thought, or just after Seheron. Those days were vague and indistinct in his mind. Had she been one of the re-educators?

“No offence,” Bull said. “But I’m a little uneasy at meeting a Tamassran who knew me back then.”

He looked beyond her shoulder, wondering why on Thedas Adaar would let a potential Ben-Hassrath right through the gates. He found Adaar sitting halfway across the courtyard, looking at Bull with a slack expression, like a man who had just been slapped.

“I understand your concern,” she said. “I will present myself to your spymaster shortly, but I felt the need to speak with you, so that I might explain my purpose. I came here for many reasons, but one of them was to meet you.”

She spoke Common with a clipped, elegant dialect. Bull recognised it as the language taught to those who worked with the Viddathari. The dialects Bull had learned were much more colloquial.

“State your case,” Bull said.

“I heard about the Dreadnought sinking, and I knew that even a spy would be unable to weather that loss without becoming a Tal Vashoth.” Her words were like a knife in a healing wound. “I knew of you before, but I could not risk confirming this until now. I hope you can understand.”

Bull could see small legs kicking up, next to Adaar. The body they belonged to was hidden by Adaar’s bulk. Adaar jolted under Bull’s gaze. He stood up and out of the way. Behind him was a little girl, her cowl pushed down to reveal tight, white curls. She had a long nose on a sweet, smiling face. Her horn buds pointed out to the sides, just barely beginning to grow in.

“Her name is Taashari,” she said. “She is of your blood.”

“Oh, Maker,” Krem said.

Krem’s hand, clasped tight on Bull’s forearm, was the only thing that kept Bull from falling over.

“I have brought her here to learn, if your Inquisitor will agree to it,” she said.

“Why here?” Krem asked, his voice grown tight.

“She is a mage, and Skyhold is now home to most of the mages in the South.”

Bull had known, of course he’d known, that the Tamassrans had used him for breeding before. He’d known but he’d never _thought_ , because any children from breeding were children of the Qun, children that would be raised and loved by someone else, for some useful purpose. Not his child. Yet here she was, a girl with his nose and his horns, sitting happily in the sunlight.

He felt as if a cold pall had fallen over him, to think that a child from him would be a mage. To think that, had her mother lived any differently, that happy child would be bound to task already. Her horns filed back, small body clad in iron, lips sewn shut until she had earned the right to speak. Serving and suffering for the good of the Qun.

“Oh, damn it,” Bull said, barely a whisper, unable to take his eyes off the girl.

The Tamassran cleared her throat, and Bull turned his attention back to her.

“I expected this would be a shock, and I will give you some time to decide how you would like to proceed,” she said. “But in the meantime, if you do speak to her, you will be kind. You will agree to this.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Bull said.

She nodded and then turned back towards her daughter.

“Wait,” Bull said. “What's your name?”

She looked back and smiled, a bright toothy thing.

“Katari,” she replied, then she walked away.

“Fuck,” Bull whispered.

“What does it mean?” Krem asked, still holding Bull up.

“It means _one who brings death_ ,” Bull said.

“Fuck.” Krem replied.

 

* * *

 

 

Krem, with all the wisdom of a future commander, dragged Bull up to Madame de Fer’s salon and left him there. Then he ran off to do something else. Possibly tell the Chargers. Bull wasn’t sure. Bull wasn’t sure of anything.

“Darling,” Vivienne said. “You’re looking rather peakèd.”

“A Tamassran arrived today,” Bull said.

“I look forward to meeting one of the women you hold in such high regard.”

“Yes, yes. Regard.”

Vivienne stood from her artful recline upon her settee and walked the five steps it took to place her next to Bull on her guest sofa. She sat beside him. She was a third of his size at the utmost but she always seemed bigger.

“My dear Iron Bull, do tell me what’s wrong,” she said.

There was a stone in his throat.  

“May I have tea first?” Bull asked.

“Of course.”

Vivienne poured him tea herself, in a pink cup, with a delicate saucer, and she gave him the cup and she gave him a biscuit and then she gently, gently stared him down.

Bull took a sip of the tea, which was soothing and fragrant, and then committed himself to speaking. He set the cup back down.

“Before I left for Orlais, the Qun decided to… see about passing my traits down to another generation.” If Bull had to use the word _breeding_ in front of Vivienne, he would throw himself off the balcony. “I don’t remember her well, but the woman they chose, she’s here now. She brought her child with her. A girl.”

Vivienne’s eyes widened and she took his hand in hers, her grip firm and reassuring.

“Your daughter?” Vivienne asked.

“I couldn’t have a daughter under the Qun, Ma’am,” Bull said.

Vivienne was silent for a moment, and Bull could almost hear it, the truth beneath diplomacy. _You are no longer under the Qun_.

“I look forward to meeting her,” Vivienne said voice gentle. “How old is she?”

“Around ten.”

“And what does she look like?”

Soft and sweet. Still rounded by childhood. Untouched by the many small cruelties of the world.

“She looks like me,” Bull said. “Just, smaller.”

“I wonder if she has your temperament.”

“She seems content enough.”

“You spoke to her?”

“Not yet.”

What could he even say, to a child?

 “Her mother said she’d give me time to think it through, but I don’t know what to do. I’ve never considered children, what that might mean. I’m not meant to be a parent,” Bull said.

Vivienne hummed softly, not quite a tone of agreement.

“I think,” she said, carefully. “That there are a good many things you could be, were you to take the time to learn how.”

He appreciated her kind words, but he still knew the risk he posed, without the Qun to temper him. He had made a life out of charisma and violence. Men like him too easily became monsters. He’d seen it often enough on Seheron.

His thoughts turned to Katari. She must have left the Qun while she was pregnant. Because she was pregnant. She’d been a Tal Vashoth for over a decade and she seemed sane enough. Maybe she had some advice.

“This has been a wild year for me,” Bull said.

Bull could feel Vivienne laughing silently on the sofa next to him. He kept his eye pointed up towards the ceiling, tracing the joists and rafters. It made him feel small. Vivienne stroked Bull’s hand in hers, the callouses on her fingers passing over his scars. For the first time that day, he felt something like peace. He leaned further into the sofa as his muscles relaxed.

“The kid’s a mage,” Bull added.

Vivienne smiled, a warm, pleased thing.

“Wonderful,” she said.

 

* * *

 

 

Bull spent the rest of the morning confirming with Josephine that there was a Qunari sized room available for Katari and the kid, which there was, and subsequently finding excuses to dodge her well-meaning exclamations about the presence of a child that was, apparently, very very obviously his and no, not because all Qunari looked alike, but because she did in fact look very very much like Bull, and not just the chin and the cheeks and the brow and the height, she also _smiled_ like Bull only she had little bunny teeth like her mother who seemed like _such a lovely woman_ and Josephine would like to invite her for lunch.

He had to pretend to have a meeting with the Chargers just to get out the door. Josephine didn’t even seem upset by it. She was too busy being delighted.

It said a lot that his meeting with Red was worse.

“We will keep an eye on her, of course,” Leliana said. “But I am very excited about the skills she can bring to the Inquisition.”

Leliana looked so thoroughly pleased with events that Bull had to leave the room. He didn’t want to think about the sorts of skills a freelance Tamassran might have that Red might use. Just thinking about it made him feel sweaty, and like he should be standing to attention.

He didn’t bother with Cullen. Cullen was probably worried about harbouring yet another mage, and if not that, was trying to handle the emotional upheaval of learning Bull had procreated.

 

* * *

 

 

Dinner that night was a subdued affair. Krem must’ve threatened the Chargers into compliance, because they were all quiet and supportive, and nobody had yet laughed at him. Sera had even brought him an inedible cookie without talking any shit or discussing Katari’s attributes. Bull was still reeling but impressed. Of course, Krem couldn’t get to everyone.

“You’re a real shit you are,” Cecily said, slamming his ale down so hard half of it spilt out onto the table.

Bull put his hands up. “Hey, woah, not sure what I did there, but I’m sorry about it.”

“If I’d’ve known you had a wife, I’d never’ve… well. For shame, Iron Bull,” she said.

Her lower lip was trembling. She was so angry she was almost shaking, and while Cecily was as fetching while she was furious as she was when she was pleased, Bull had no desire to upset her. Beyond the fallout, she was a nice woman. Bull didn’t like upsetting nice women.

“I promise you, she’s not my wife. We don’t have marriage under the Qun.”

That was when Cecily slapped him.

“Typical!” she shouted, and then she stomped her way back to the bar.

There was silence in the tavern for ten horrific seconds. And then the sound of dry, croaking laughter. To a man, each of the Chargers turned their head towards Grim, who had, at that point, started hitting the table to punctuate his eerie cackle.

“Maker, shut up!” Skinner said.

Grim wheezed, tears in his eyes, and shook his head.

 

* * *

 

 

Katari came to watch the Chargers train the next day. She watched proceedings with the same steady air she’d had the day before, as if they were her sten, and she were their overseer. Frustratingly, the men worked harder and more obediently while she was watching. Krem didn’t call Bull a dirty word even _once_.

Bull was incredibly proud of himself for not calling a break until she’d been there a quarter hour. Anything else would’ve felt like giving up.

“May I have a moment?” she asked, once the Chargers had been sent off to water themselves.

“You can have two,” Bull replied.

Textbook personability. She’d never know how rattled he was. Except that she was a Tamassran and probably knew exactly what he was doing, because they _always did_.

“No less than five people have called me Mrs The Iron Bull since I arrived here,” she said. “I have corrected them as gently as I can, but I believe it will take some time.”

Bull pressed his face into his hand. “Oh, fuck it all. Fucking Southerners.”

“Well, perhaps not while you’re a married man. Dearest.”

Bull looked back up at her, mouth fallen open. She was stood before him looking quietly pleased with herself. She leaned forward a little.

“That was a joke,” she said.

Bull’s laugh was little more than an exhalation of air with a little squeak at the end of it. He raised his hands in the air, and not knowing who to beseech, or what to do with them, put them down again.

“Half the Keep thinks I’m a dog,” Bull said, as he smiled despairingly.

Katari hissed through her teeth a little and nodded her head from side to side.

“I do apologise for the inconvenience. It was not my intention to cause damage to your reputation. I could pretend to have a partner elsewhere, but I would rather not lie.”

“I’d rather you didn’t either, but I appreciate the heads up. Almost had a beer thrown on me last night, wasn’t sure if it was gonna be an isolated event.”

“By another patron, or a member of staff?”

“Serving girl. I don’t think she’d even met you and she was ready to go to bat for you.”

She smiled a little more brightly and Bull could see that she did in fact have little bunny teeth.

“How unusually kind,” she said. “Misguided… but kind. Thank you for the information. I shall speak with those in the kitchen, and word will spread.”

“What’re you gonna tell them? Because I went in without a plan last night and got it way wrong.”

“Meraad astaarit… these Southerners are religious. I shall appeal to their piety. We did as our higher power said we must, how were we to know any different? And children _are_ a blessing.”

Bull couldn’t help but give her a small, sincere round of applause, hands clapping quietly. She bowed slightly, accepting his praise.

“I am sure you would have come to a suitable answer yourself, under more ideal circumstances,” Katari said.

“Better to come from the ‘wounded party’,” Bull replied.

“Sound logic. Such sensibility is sadly lacking on these shores.”

“Ain’t that the truth.”

Katari nodded, looking towards the kitchens and then back again.

“Madame Vivienne asked that Taashari and I eat breakfast with her this morning,” Katari said. “She offered to mind her while I attended to any errands. I believe she would not be averse to more company.”

Bulls heart filled with the same flush of energy he felt before going to battle. He breathed deep and slow, to push the feeling back down.

“Would you rather I met her for the first time with you there?” Bull asked.

“I do not think we need more than one Tamassran present,” Katari said, her smile quirking again. “I thought this might be easier for you, but it is not the only way. We can make other opportunities.”

“No, not at all, I appreciate it. I’ll just tell the guys to get started without me.”

Katari nodded, and for the first time, something like insecurity passed over her features. Her right hand clenched and released, and then she sighed.

“I would like it if we could be friends,” she said. “Not just for Taashari’s sake. It is… pleasant to speak to someone who understands the old life. Someone who was on that island, and was able to survive, as we have.”

It was like a match being lit, or a curtain being pulled aside. It hadn’t occurred to him that she might be lonely. That she might have emotions beyond unrelenting competence. In realising, he felt unexpectedly bad about it.

“I’d like that too,” Bull said, and meant it.

“Perhaps you can meet Taashari and I for lunch tomorrow?”

“Let’s take something out to the gardens, they’re nice this time of year.”

“I look forward to it,” Katari said.

She bowed her goodbye, instead of waving, and walked off in the direction of the kitchens.

“You can come out now,” Bull said.

Krem appeared, immediately, from behind a tree that had not been thick enough to hide him.

“She really gets Southerners, doesn’t she?” Krem said.

“You say that as if you don’t count,” Bull replied.

 

* * *

 

 

Bull washed his face and changed his clothes before making the trek up to Vivienne’s salon. He ran through the Body Canto on the way up to distract his mind from any emotional reactions to having brunch with a relative. As he ascended the final stair, he could see Vivienne sitting on her sofa, with her back to him. The kid was next her. She came up to Vivienne’s shoulder, but he still thought of her as something small, and precious maybe. The boards creaked beneath his foot, and she turned to look at him. She smiled at him and her smile was just like the one he saw in the mirror. Just with cuter teeth.

“Hey,” he said. “I’m the Iron Bull.”

“Pleased to meet you. I’m Taashari,” she replied.

“We have been reading books all morning,” Vivienne said, looking not just pleased but _proud_. “Taashari is a very clever young woman.”

“Thank you for teaching me, Ma’am.”

The kid looked thoroughly contented, sitting next to Vivienne with a book in her lap. Bull was reminded of days spent learning about the world with the Tamassrans. About the smell of ink and parchment, and the quiet happiness that came with satisfied curiosity.

“Sounds like a good day. Maybe you could tell me what you’ve learned?” Bull said.

Vivienne gestured for Bull to take the settee, though he had never in his life seen a guest sit upon her settee. The kid waited for him to sit, before holding up the book so he could see the title.

“It’s about dragons!” she said.

The cover said _Song of the Vinsomer._ Vivienne, for possibly the first time in her entire life, shrugged.

“Alright!” Bull said, already excited. “Let’s hear all about it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There should be other parts, but they will all be relatively self contained.  
> Potentially troubling element: this is a story about Bull meeting a child that he fathered while under the Qun, after Seheron. Later chapters may explore how he felt about this. While there is a little adjacent drama, most handle this as well as they can, without judgement.  
> (I like to call this chapter 'Vivienne gets the granddaughter she always wanted')


	2. It is pronounced Snou-fleur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bull educates his colleagues about the Qun. Also there are snoufleurs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are a few people who followed this work before I added the ship tag, and I just want to let them know that I haven't deleted the original second chapter. I just wanted this one to come first, and I'm not sure where the other should sit in sequence, so I'm leaving it out for now.

The Emprise du Lion had a frigid beauty to it. The snow made a pleasing cover for the collapsed and abandoned homes. It took barely five minutes to pass through the town, past the landscape of human misery and out onto the open forest, the miles of frozen lake. The cold had sunk in for so long that it was difficult to imagine what the land had been like before.

Every step he took was murder on his knee. He might’ve managed on land, but Adaar had dragged them out onto the ice.

“How many snufflers are we going to kill, anyway?” Bull asked.

“They’re called snow-fleurs,” Adaar said.

“ _Snou_ fleurs,” Dorian said, his Orlesian dialect near-perfect.

“Je l'appelle comme je le vois,” Bull said.

He caught Dorian looking at him from the corner of his eye. Dorian’s lips quirked approvingly for a moment before settling into his usual insolent smirk. Bull threw a one-eyed wink at him and Dorian rolled his eyes in return.

“But why are we killing so many snufflers?” Blackwall asked. “They’re so daft. I’m starting to feel bad about it.”

Bull didn’t share his opinion, but he also had an inkling that they were going a long way towards decimating a once healthy population of game animals. Although their lack of self-preservation suggested they weren’t regularly hunted in the Emprise.

“They produce cheap, good leather for armour,” Adaar replied. “How do you think the Inquisition affords to outfit you all?”

“I thought we were whoring ourselves out to the Orlesians,” Dorian said.

“That’s just you,” Blackwall replied.

Dorian clasped a hand over his chiselled bosom, “how terribly hurtful. As if I would ever get into bed for an Orlesian.”

“Would you get on a rug for one?” Bull asked.

“Now _that_ is just _you_ , Bull.”

“Children,” Adaar said. “If you don’t behave, I’ll turn the cart around.”

“We don’t have a cart,” Blackwall said, mutinously.

A hundred yards away, Bull could see another snuffler, watching them curiously. It’s little blue trunk quivered in the cold air. It’s beady black eyes shone with absolutely no intelligence at all. _Damnit_ , Bull thought, _I’m beginning to feel bad about this too_.

The snuffler began running in a wide, uneven circle, its fat, round body loping majestically across the ice.

“I can’t take much more of this,” Dorian said, before felling it with a single, calculated burst of lightning.

“Nice,” Bull said.

It took a long, boring minute to make their way across the lake to the snuffler’s body. They wouldn’t skin it on site. The meat would be useful for the town, however diminished it was, and they lacked the skill to separate the skin neatly. The scouts would have a difficult time with cold bodies, but they’d still do a better job.

As they approached the snuffler, they heard a high, plaintive snorting. Bull saw a small, striped shape dart away from the snowbanks on the lake shore. It ran to the snuffler, nudging it desperately. When the snuffler didn’t move, it walked down to the snuffler’s belly, and curled into the animal’s fading warmth.

“Oh, no,” Blackwall said. “It had a snufflet.”

Normally, Bull would’ve done it a kindness and put the poor thing out of its misery. There was no good end for an animal that was separated from its mother too soon. It probably hadn’t even been weaned yet.

But it was small, and round, and crying softly, shivering against the cold. Its stripes were a clear, pale blue against a grey body. Its little nose quivered as it squeaked. Its eyes were wide with terror.

“Damnit,” Bull said.

 

* * *

 

 

“We’re not killing any more fucking snufflers,” Bull said.

He’d tucked the snufflet beneath his armour, between his skin and his shirt. Snufflers really were the stupidest of all creatures. After about five minutes of terrified squealing, the snufflet had decided it was quite comfortable in its new home and was busily nosing its trunk into Bulls ears. It tickled.

Adaar and Blackwall had elected to drag the snufflet’s mother into town, while Bull and Dorian walked the long way around the lake’s island, shielding the little animal’s eyes from the subjective horror of it all. Dorian’s smirk was gone, replaced by a very smooth, neutral expression. Whenever the snufflet looked at him, Bull would see Dorian’s face pointed firmly in the other direction.

“You feel bad about this, don’t you?” Bull said.

It was too cold to blush, but Bull was sure Dorian would have managed it at any other time.

“Shut up,” Dorian said.

“Good rejoinder.”

Dorian made a short, frustrated sound, and began to walk faster. His robes covered his ass, but his thighs were still looking fantastic.

“Hate to see you go, love to watch you leave!” Bull shouted.

Dorian went stiff for a moment, then squawked all the louder, his hands curled into fists. His stride gained a definite stomping quality to it, but he’d still glance back every now and then, checking that Bull wasn’t too far behind. While Bull would’ve preferred not to admit it, he’d definitely slowed on the walk back to camp.

“How’s your knee?” Dorian stopped for long enough that Bull almost caught up to him.

“It’ll be better after I get off this damn ice.”

“You should’ve asked Adaar to bring Cassandra. She’s somewhat chilled to begin with.”

“But who’d protect your guilty conscience if you didn’t have me?”

Dorian polished façade dropped into a remorseful grimace for a moment.

“I wouldn’t want to be so cruel,” Dorian said. “Even to such a wretched thing.”

The snufflet’s breathing had slowed as they walked, falling into a soft, pleasant sound, somewhere between a purr and a gentle snore. Bull didn’t move to check, but he was sure it was asleep.

“What are you going to do with it?” Dorian asked, trying and failing to hide the worry in his tone.

“They’re placid enough, might make a good pet.”

“You’d keep it as a pet?”

“Nah, not enough time, but the kid might like it.”

“Cole?”

“I mean he might, but I was thinking of Taashari.”

They were both quiet for a moment, the only sound to be heard was the crunch of their boots on the ice, the distant howling of wolves. Dorian was twitchy, though. Kept opening his mouth to speak only to turn it into a sigh.

“Come on, spit it out,” Bull said. “I’ll answer if it’s not too offensive.”

“How does that… feel? You say there are no families under the Qun, but now there is. You have a family,” Dorian said.

Bull clenched his jaw for a moment. He could still feel a thread of pain, having been separated from the Qun. That hurt was shortly followed by guilt. The only reason he still had his boys was his decision to betray his beliefs and his people, in favour of those he loved.

“Already had one, I guess,” Bull said. “Just added to it a bit.”

“It must be surprising, to have an old lover back in your life. To have a child.”

“Katari was never in my life, we barely met. I wasn’t in a good state then. She remembers me better than I remember her.”

“That’s somewhat bleak.”

“Hey, I’m not complaining. Taashari’s a good kid.”

“She is, rather. She’s very self-possessed for one so young. Studious, as well.”

Bull smiled to himself.

“Yeah, kind of makes me proud, not that I had much to do with it.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dorian open his mouth, his face set in the same prideful expression he got right before he said something cutting and flippant. He paused instead, as if he’d thought better of it. Wonders never ceased.

“She’s very like you,” Dorian said, after a moment of silence.

“So everyone says,” Bull replied. “You’re a sweet guy, Dorian.”

“Do shut up, please,” Dorian said.

 

* * *

 

 

The scouts brought him milk and a skin when he requested it. Bull took it, and the snufflet, to the campfire so he could warm his knee and get some of his mobility back. He had to put the snufflet in his chest plate so he could remove his brace. It slipped on the smooth metal, crying again because it didn’t like being so close to the flame.

“You’ll get used to it,” Bull said, as he picked the little creature up.

It calmed more once it was in his hands, though it pawed at him once it smelled the milk he was holding. Bull folded the edges around the mouth of the skin, making it into something the snufflet could suck on. It squeaked happily as it drank, it’s beady little eyes closed as if in satisfaction.

Bull felt the log beneath him shift as Blackwall joined him. Blackwall had chosen to leave most of his armour on, as he often did when he had first watch. It might have been an attempt to keep the cold out. Humans seemed to feel it more than Bull did, or at least they felt a greater need to complain. Blackwall cleared his throat, and Bull turned towards him, careful not to clip the other man with his horns.

“It’s cute,” Blackwall said. “It was good of you to care for it.”

“I’m going soft in my old age.”

The snufflet snuffled, only louder.

“You’re going to have to carry it all the way back to Skyhold, you do realise,” Adaar said, from behind them both.

Adaar and Dorian joined them by the fire, both of them stripped of their plate armour, and Dorian even more rugged up than before. Dorian sat to his left, and Adaar took the log next to Blackwall. Adaar watched the snufflet drink with open curiosity, his eyes rarely moving from it’s blue face.

“My mum always said they used pets to teach children responsibility, under the Qun,” Adaar said.

“You been gossiping, ‘Vint?” Bull asked.

“That’s not gossip, it’s a fact,” Dorian replied. “It’s hardly a secret when a man buys his daughter a pet.”

That _word_ had only made Bull more nervous with time. No matter what Vivienne said about his potential, the fact remained that he was unqualified to be a parent.

“Do you think Katari will mind?” Adaar asked.

“You said it yourself, pets teach responsibility.”

“Stuff you’ve said before about Tamassrans,” Blackwall said in a stilted, sheepish tone. “She hasn’t seemed much like I thought she’d be.”

Bull tried to think back on everything he’d said about Tamassrans, within Blackwall’s earshot. Nothing really stepped out. He’d been pretty clear about their role as authoritative carers, and Katari fit that bill.

“I’ve never met one before,” Adaar said. “My mum was a saarebas, and my dad was an army cook. Nearly every Vashoth I know is ex-military or descended from someone who is. Tamassrans don’t seem to go rogue much.”

“Why is that, do you think?” Dorian asked.

There was a curious air about all three of them, and they were watching Bull with ill-concealed eagerness. Bull puffed out an exasperated breath of air through his nose, and decided to indulge them.

“Tamassrans are the most connected out of all of us,” Bull said. “In the military, it’s all about protecting the homeland, the Ben Hassrath protect the people from themselves if need be, but Tamassrans are guardians and healers of the mind. We all have our emotional ties, but their job is to look after people. Must be harder to leave when you have children to take care of, people you know relying on you to stay sane.”

A hush fell over the campfire. Even the nearby scouts seemed to have stopped speaking. Bull gave the nearest a very cutting look, and the boy scrambled off to make himself useful. The rest chose, more subtly, to do the same.

“They’re also not trained to fight. The South’s no friend to Vashoth. A lot of them probably die, or get taken by the slave trade,” Bull said.

Adaar seemed to have been shocked silent, he looked at Bull with eyes that had taken on a shine from the fire, his fists clenched on his knees.

“Oh,” he said.

“I’m surprised your parents didn’t tell you all this,” Bull replied.

“They don’t like to talk about it too much,” Adaar said. “It upsets them.”

Bull could relate.

“Your lady is a very admirable woman,” Blackwall said.

“She’s not my lady, but I agree with you.”

“You’re not together?” Blackwall asked.

“Why would we be?”

“She came all this way to find you.”

Dorian had surprisingly chosen to stay silent for much of their conversation and seemed to be keeping his own counsel even then, in spite of actually knowing a little about Bull’s past. Dorian kept his eyes turned towards the fire.

“She came all this way to find the mages,” Bull said. “She wanted the kid to know me because the South is big on where your parents came from, but her primary concern is Taashari’s education.”

“It’s all a bit romantic though, isn’t it?” Adaar said.

“Qunari don’t do romance, kid.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dorian wrap his arms tighter around himself.

“Vashoth do, though,” Adaar said. “It’s like something out of Varric’s books. You had one night together, before the world split you apart, and then a decade later she finds you, with your long-lost child, and you have a chance to start all over again!”

Bull wanted to rest his face in his hands for a while, but he couldn’t with an armful of drowsy snufflet. He settled for closing his eye and counting to ten. When he opened it again, both Adaar and Blackwall were still watching him, leaning forward in their seats as if it would make Bull answer quicker.

“I don’t like telling you lot the parts of Qunari culture that’ll make you feel weird, but if I don’t, you’re going to keep romanticising this and making it awkward. I’ve never slept with Katari.”

The resulting uproar upset the snufflet so much that he had to put a leash on it and wrap it up in a fluffy sheepskin inside his tent. It chose discretion over valour and hid itself entirely inside the wool.

Bull returned to the campfire. “You guys done?”

“So she’s not your daughter?” Dorian asked, thoroughly shocked out of his silence.

“She’s definitely got my blood in her. You don’t need to have sex to make a kid.”

“How?” Blackwall asked. “Why?”

The second question was definitely more fervent than the first.

“If you combine breeding and sex, people tend to get funny ideas about legacies and inheritance. Not all the time, but enough that it becomes a problem. From what the records say, sometimes the people they matched would feel a spark and decide to run off. It was embarrassing for everyone.” Bull shrugged his shoulder. “And I don’t know how they do it from the other end, but they just had me finish in a cup.”

“A _cup_ ,” Adaar said, his face a rictus of horror. Blackwall seemed similarly affected.

Dorian merely hummed thoughtfully and nodded his head, which was another suspicion about Tevinter confirmed.

“We also sew mages lips shut and turn dissenters into mindless drones, not sure why this is the thing that finally surprises you.”

“They,” Dorian said lightly.

“Twist the knife, why don’t you,” Bull replied.

“I don’t know what to say about this,” Blackwall said.

“Nothing. Because I don’t want anyone giving Katari any shit about Qun business. It’s been hard enough keeping Solas away from her. Don’t need everybody else starting up.”

Blackwall rubbed his head pensively. He always did that when he felt guilty, and he quite often felt very guilty indeed.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Blackwall said.

“Anybody else feel like talking about their personal life, if we’re getting it out there?” Bull asked. “Any sweethearts I don’t know about?”

The answer to that question was, of course, ‘no’, because Bull knew about Blackwall’s chaste pining for Josephine and Adaar’s ongoing crush on Scout Harding.

“I had it on with a chevalier last week,” Dorian said bleakly.

“You fucking liar,” Blackwall said.

“I am not,” Dorian replied. “We did it standing up.”

Bull laughed so hard he gave himself a stitch. Blackwall fell into a snowbank.

 

* * *

 

 

“Hey kid,” Bull said, holding out the snufflet with two hands. “Got you a present.”

He’d tied a pretty pink bow about the animal’s neck. The snufflet sniffed curiously at Taashari’s outstretched hands, and passed happily into her grasp. She giggled as the snufflet pushed itself up against her neck and nosed at her ears.

“Thanks Bull!” Taashari said, ecstatic.

“Yes, thank you Bull,” Katari said, in an entirely different tone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Bull looked up to the impressively excessive statuary the lined the edge of the lake._   
>  _“Hey look, titsicles,” Bull said._   
>  _Dorian and Adaar groaned audibly._
> 
> (Comments are very sincerely appreciated, they help keep me going)


	3. Healers of the Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katari's role with the Inquisition becomes clear.

Bull might’ve objected to Dorian cheating at cards if Dorian weren’t absolutely terrible at cheating at cards.

“I just got the Angel of Death,” Krem said.

“Damnit,” Varric said. “I got zip.”

“Two Songs, two Knights,” Dorian said, as he dropped his cards on the table.

“Three Daggers, two Serpents,” Bull said. “I’m going to spend my winnings on a deck that none of you have marked.”

Varric and Dorian blinked slowly and did not look at each other.

“Word to the wise, Dorian, it’s easier to palm cards if you wear loose sleeves.”

Varric tugged on his gloves and smiled. Dorian glared. Krem coughed into his hand and Bull turned to look at him. Krem always sat on Bull’s blind side.  

“Oh golly,” Krem said. “Can anybody tell me how _I_ did?”

Neatly laid out on the bar table were five Angels, each with very subtle nicks on the edges. Dorian rolled his eyes and pushed his money over. Varric was more magnanimous, but Varric was also independently wealthy many times over. When Krem reached over to take Bull’s share, he left a coin behind.

“There you go, enough to buy your deck,” he said.

“You’re all heart,” Bull replied.

One of the barmaids was lingering by Cabot, wringing her hands slightly as he spoke to her in a low tone. Bull didn’t know her very well. She was one of the few who had a fondness for him that had never extended to the carnal. She went by ‘Bella’ but Bull knew it wasn’t her real name. More than once he’d seen her ignore someone call out to her, only to jolt a moment later, like she’d just remembered who she’d become. He would’ve suspected her as a poor spy, but she was hardly the only Ferelden who’d come to Skyhold for a fresh start as much as a good cause.

Dorian took his turn dealing, shuffling the cards like he was performing a trick, palming a Serpent near-seamlessly. Varric caught Bull’s eye and shook his head, but he did it with a smile.

Bella was still waiting by the bar. Cabot left her to her vigil with a soft look and a companionable pat on the arm. She glanced towards the tavern door every minute or so.

Bull took a sip of his beer. Flagon was still half full. Krem and Dorian muttered at each other in somewhat aggressive sounding Tevene, masking the fact that they were actually discussing the relative terribleness of their current hands. Bull was effectively fluent in the language, but even he had trouble following them when their regional dialects kicked in, both replete with obscure slang and idioms.

The tavern door opened, and the figure within was momentarily obscured by the bright, winter sunlight outside. When they stepped forward he saw horns and a full skirt. It was unusual to see Katari in the Herald’s Rest. She didn’t seem to care for the noise or informality. More surprising was the child clinging to her hand. There weren’t many children in Skyhold. Most were mages.

From the robes, this child was no exception.

Katari spoke softly to the kid. He was small, with a thin face and large, pale eyes. He couldn’t have been more than eight or nine years old. Katari gently encouraged him forward, and she walked slowly and steadily into the tavern, not stopping even as the child looked around fearfully. Bella stiffened by the bar. Her hands shook.

“Angus,” she said.

She smiled tremulously and opened her arms. The boy lost his cautious hunch, his face brightening as his posture straightened. Katari let go of his hand and he ran forward, his feet tapping over the wooden floor.

“Mum!” Angus shouted, and he didn’t so much embrace her as he did collide with her, blissful happiness clear on his face.

“You came to visit me,” Bella said. “Andraste blessed me with such a dutiful son.”

Even halfway across the tavern, Bull could hear her voice choking up.

“Ain’t that sweet,” Varric said.

“So that’s what she does,” Krem said. “Looks after the mages.”

“Something like that,” Bull replied.

Explained why Red was so happy to have her, why she spoke like the keepers of the Viddathari. Bull felt a moment of annoyance at himself, for not putting the elements together, but it was hardly unexpected. It was hard to analyse the people you were conditioned to obey.

“Healers of the mind,” Dorian said, quietly and thoughtfully.

“Just so,” Bull said. “Alright boys, count me out of this round.”

“Going to talk to the missus?” Varric asked.

“Keep projecting and you’ll sale right over the Keep, dwarf.”

“I resent that.”

Bull stood from his seat and flicked his cards on the table, revealing the Angel of Death in his hand. Krem groaned loudly, and Bull heard an argument start up as he walked away. His steps were heavy on the wooden flooring. Katari turned to him when he was three strides away, a polite smile on her face.

“So.” Bull sat in the chair next to her, spinning it so he was leaning over the back. “An Ash-athlok going by ‘Katari’.”

Katari’s eyebrows rose and her cheeks went a little dusky.

“You really didn’t know?” She asked. She sounded surprised.

“I’m not that far out from the Qun that I’d pry into a Tamassran’s business.”

“We need to work that out of you,” Katari said. “I happen to know someone who might be able to assist.”

“It’s you isn’t it?”

“I bet your milk name was fun-ruiner.”

“I was a delight, thank you,” Bull said.

Yards away, Bella introduced her son to Cabot. He’d dropped into a squat so he could meet the boy’s eyes. Angus kept close to his mother’s skirts, but gamely reached out to shake Cabot’s hand.

“What’s the goal here?” Bull asked.

“The mage children have experienced much trauma in their young lives, without dedicated carers,” Katari said. “The fear that protected them now hurts them, so we practice facing it.”

“Baby steps?”

“That is accurate.”

Bella kissed Angus’ cheek, his hair, his blushing ears. Angus giggled, and while he batted at her hands, he did not move away.

“There are not many like Bella in the South,” Katari said, a thread of anger woven into her voice.

“She came here to find him?”

“She did. I have been told that another father came to find his child, but he was not among the rebels.”

There was a time when Bull would have understood why no one came to claim the mages. So many mages in one place remained a risk. For all that Dalish was a valued member of his crew, she was a tested adult. There were many who lacked her skill and discipline. Saarebas was not an inaccurate term.

“He looks much more relaxed now he’s with her,” Bull said.

“Children require secure attachments to thrive. I have asked the Nightingale to arrange for them to live together.”

Angus had come alive under the eyes of his mother. Katari had chosen for that moment to happen in the Rest, where Cullen’s men ate their lunch in the back corner. Where Charter lingered by the fire, keeping her body warm and her ears open.

“What’ll happen to the other kids?” Bull asked.

“I have plans,” Katari said. “I lack the charisma to make them a reality.”

She turned her head, very slowly, and looked Bull in the eye.

“You’d be better off asking Vivienne,” Bull replied quietly.

“I lack the charisma to convince Vivienne. Also the rapport.”

“You’re implying it doesn’t take charisma or rapport to convince _me_.”

“Why would I need those to convince such a wise and logical man?”

Bull cocked his eyebrow at her. Katari’s face held a flat, neutral expression, but Bull could tell she was biting the inside of her lip.

“Appeals to vanity work better when you’re subtle about it.”

“A hammer cannot do the work of a needle.”

It was an idiom had have not heard for over a decade, and even then never in Trade. It reminded him of childhood, of his Tama guiding him on his first steps towards a role that had shaped him into the person he was. Into a person he was almost content to be.

Bull rubbed his hand over his chin, the short bristles prickling against his skin. Katari was looking at him with the exact same expression she had moments before, except that it now seemed to have an air of triumph about it.

“That wouldn’t have worked if I were in a bad mood, I hope you know,” Bull said.

“You’ve been doing much better lately.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

A soldier stripped down to his leathers approached the bar. Katari stiffened a little, her hands clasped so tight in her lap that her knuckles had gone white. Angus saw him coming and went silent. It was like watching a hibiscus flower close in the night. Angus kept his mother between himself and the soldier, kept his head down and his shoulders up. Bella put her hand on Angus’ shoulder, but took the man’s order all the same.

The man returned to his table quickly, a look of deep discomfort on his face. Mage or not, it was no easy thing to see a child be afraid of you.

“Please,” Katari said, quietly.

Bull sighed, and then patted Katari on the shoulder.

“I’ll do my best, on one condition,” he said.

“You need but name it.”

“Why’d you pick ‘Katari’?”

She looked, abruptly, deeply embarrassed.

“When I came to the South I no longer wanted to be named according to my purpose,” she said. “Also, I thought it was funny.”

Bull chuckled, low and deep, such that he felt it all the way through his chest.

“You’re hilarious.”

“That is not a compliment.”

“Tell me what you need me to do.”

Katari relaxed out of her habitual, rigid posture. There was a tension around her eyes, a fatigue that she normally hid.

“Thank you, Bull,” she said.

By the bar, Bella spoke softly to her son, one arm wrapped around his shoulders. He had wrapped himself around her waist, hands clenched on the fabric of her dress, as if it would harm him to let go.

 

* * *

 

 

He would’ve chosen Cullen, but he didn’t know enough about Cullen’s perspective on his childhood with the Templars, where he had been one of the older recruits. Josephine would have been easier to convince, but Red was likely whispering in her ear. That left Vivienne, who was conservative for a mage, immune to manipulation, and his friend besides.

With that in mind, his most effective approach was sideways honesty.

“You do a lot of work with the mage kids?” Bull asked.

They had eschewed Vivienne’s balcony to take tea in the garden. Adaar had converted part of it so they could grow herbs. The scent of Crystal Grace hung in the air.

“I have taken a role in their education,” Vivienne said. “We have been learning barriers recently.”

“Is the kid sitting in on lessons?”

“She is very advanced. She has been helping the other children learn.”

Vivienne took a delicate sip of her tea. She had a pleased smile on her face and a knowing look in her eye.

“I think I know what you’re going to ask, Darling.”

“I imagine so, yeah. Sorry.”

“Katari could have asked me herself, and I would not have taken offence. I would of course be happy to take Taashari on as my apprentice.”

Bull’s mind found itself momentarily devoid of all thought, thoroughly upended from its trail of them.

“Um,” Bull said.

“I’m going to requisition some robes for her from Val Royeaux,” Vivienne said. “She should be properly outfitted.”

That brought him back. He still remembered the repercussions of the Snuffler Incident. Bull was now responsible for helping Taashari clean out one of Dennet’s stalls twice a week.

“Ma’am, you can’t dress the kid up like a doll,” Bull said, as reprovingly as he cared to risk.

“I won’t be dressing your daughter as a _doll_ ,” Vivienne said. “I shall be dressing her as a _lady_.”

Southern gods help them all, she said it with as much conviction as she did her political opinions. Or as she might call them, political facts.

“You need to ask Katari first. It won’t do Taashari any good to look even more different from the other kids. I hear she’s making friends ok now, but it takes a lot of effort to look someone humans don’t want to murder.”

Vivienne blinked, a greater sign of surprise than she had ever shown him before. She shifted very slightly in her seat, her back just a little straighter, her gaze just a little sharper.

“I had not fully considered that,” she said. “But have you considered the role a wealthy patron might have in protecting her. In protecting them both.”

It occurred to Bull that this was his leverageable moment. That Vivienne had perhaps not so much left an opening as left an opening for _him_.

“If you want to do that, you should start with Katari,” Bull said.

“Oh?” Vivienne said.

“She has plans to improve the lives of the mages. They’re not in line with how things were managed before, but they don’t violate any principles you care about. All those mage kids are a risk right now, they’ve seen too much violence, and they don’t know how to cope with it.”

“And she does? Not being a mage herself?” Vivienne’s tone was not dismissive.

“She raised one. You said it yourself, the kid’s a leader. It’s easier for her be that with a stable foundation.”

“Some of us have the wherewithal to survive regardless.”

“Vivienne,” Bull said, beseechingly.

Her eyes widened but she did not rebuke him.

“You know how exceptional you are,” Bull said. “And maybe you’re right to hold the other mages to a higher standard in the hopes they’ll reach it, but a lot of them won’t. Those kids won’t. I bet they’re not learning as fast as you’re used to. Some of them don’t talk at all, or laugh too loud. Bet there’s one or two that are so damn angry.”

Vivienne was watching him very carefully, not a single hint of surprise remaining on her face. Of course she knew. How could she not? No one held mages to account as much as Vivienne. No one was as committed to their survival, as aware of the cost that came with being one of the magnificent, unlucky few.

“The Tamassrans raise us from birth up to adulthood. A hundred years ago, they tried specialising in age groups, moving children to a different Tamassran as they grew. The kids all grew up hurt, always afraid or angry, prone to outbursts, unable to trust. Kids need someone stable. Just one person, even.”

“And that person would be Katari?”

“Nah,” Bull said. “She can’t be their mother and heal their minds. But at least one of them still has a parent, and you have a tower full of mages who might want to step up. I’m sure there’s people there who wanted to be parents but thought they never could be.”

“People with no experience raising children.”

“I bet that there are a good many things they could do, were they to take the time to learn how,” Bull said.

Vivienne was silent for a moment, her expression unchanging and nonplussed.

“You little fink,” she said, finally.

“Yeah, I know,” Bull said.

“I will consider the proposal,” Vivienne said. “Angus has been looking in better spirits lately.”

“Any resentment?”

“A little. I believe Katari has helped.”

“Thanks, Ma’am. I appreciate it.”

They sipped their tea for a moment, and Bull ate another of the frilly little cakes Vivienne had managed to acquire from Orlais without them spoiling on the way over. Vivienne set her cup down, and looked out over the garden.

“Why didn’t Katari come to me directly?” Vivienne asked, softly.

“She didn’t trust her tongue to get it out right,” Bull said. “And you didn’t hear it from me, but I think the cracks are showing.”

“Hmm?” Vivienne hummed.

“Ash-athlok don’t work alone normally, they talk to each other. She hasn’t got anyone down here who’s even heard of what she does before.”

“We’ll never be able to take her to Orlais, they’d see through her instantly.”

“Good thing Fereldans are easier to fool, hey?”

“Quite.”

They fell once again into a companionable silence. The sun began to set, the sky lighting up in purple and red and pink. Bull sipped his tea long after it cooled.

“Hey Ma’am?” he asked.

“Yes, Darling.”

“I remember the courts at Halamshiral. I don’t like to think of the kid being treated the way they did me.”

“That was before the Inquisition had Orlais’ approval. I won’t lie and say they’ve all reached enlightenment, but you and Adaar have opened a door. Taashari will be able to exceed that, perhaps for more Vashoth than herself.”

“People die playing the Game,” Bull said.

Maybe that was a little rich coming from a man who killed people for a living, but Taashari was different. Taashari was… a kid. And if anyone hurt her, he suspected he would at least hack their dominant arm off.

“Bull,” Vivienne said.

He met her eyes. She held herself like the Ariqun, as powerful and implacable as the sea.

“Whatever happens, whatever she chooses, I will not let her falter,” Vivienne said. “She will be safe with me.”

It said a lot about the person she was that he was able to believe her.

“Thanks, Ma’am,” Bull said.

 

* * *

 

 

Still, when he walked back to his room that night, up the stairs to the battlements rather than through the tavern, he looked up to the rift in the sky and wondered if any of it, any thing they did, actually mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Katari is a psychologist. 
> 
> (Normally I wouldn't ask too much for constructive criticism because this is my downtime but... I wouldn't mind getting some feedback about Katari. She doesn't seem to be super well received, and I was wondering what wasn't gelling..)


	4. The winding road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bull takes Taashari out for the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains graphic violence. More detailed warnings are below, and may be relevant to some readers.

Bull had come of age in a country that was warm in winter, blistering in summer and cloyingly humid in the Spring. Autumn had been the pleasant season, cool and mild, and he had liked it the least. Skyhold managed to be temperate most of the year, if damp, so it was a bit of a surprise to find that he liked it better than he’d ever liked Par Vollen. Maybe it was the company.

“You get your staff wrapped way I showed you?” Krem asked.

“Yes,” Taashari replied.

“Have you laced your boots properly?” Katari asked.

“Yes, mum,” Taashari said.

“Do you have that vial of lyrium that I gave you?” Vivienne asked.

“Why would she need lyrium, she’s _ten_ ,” Katari said.

“Luck favors the prepared, Darling.”

“I put it in my pouch.”

“Make sure you can get to it quickly.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“You do realise that we’re just going on a ride, right?” Bull said. “We’re going down the mountain for a day. We’ll be back by dinner.”

“Did you fill your water skin?”

“Yes, mum.”

“Taash, can you go get The Pony from Dennet?” Bull said.

“Yay!” Taashari said, before she scampered off.

The Pony was an absolutely furious and unusually small Dalish All-Bred. It hated just about every sentient being over the age of sixteen but was sweet as custard to children and Dennet. Only Dennet. New grooms always wanted to have a go at The Pony’s beautiful chestnut and white coat, get a closer look at its pretty black eyes and the bright white star on its forehead. Dennet usually let them. He said it was an object lesson.

“If we keep making a big deal about this, she’s going to think there’s something to make a big deal about,” Bull said. “This is a milk run, we’ll keep a close eye on her and she’ll be fine. She’s safe with us.”

“I don’t normally let her travel this far from me,” Katari said.

Her eyes looked watery.

“I know. I appreciate you letting me take her out for the day, and you get to spend the day with Ma’am, it’ll be great.”

Vivienne patted Katari’s shoulder with her hand. Bull could see Vivienne willfully resist the urge to roll her eyes.

“Bull, I do not wish to be dramatic,” Katari said, in the manner of someone who was about to be dramatic. “But if anything happens to my baby, I will set this Keep on fire and then throw myself off of it.”

Vivienne smiled approvingly. Krem looked a little green and couldn’t seem to stop himself from taking half a step away from her. Bull was going to have to train him out of that.

“I promise, she’s gonna have a great day looking at birds and spooking foxes, I’ll feed her a sensible lunch.” He was not going to feed her a sensible lunch. “And then we’ll come home.”

“Alright,” Katari said.

She didn’t look as if she meant it, but he knew she’d see it through. Tamassrans always saw things through. It was their most reliable and intimidating quality.

“Pony and I are ready!” Taashari said, as she walked it towards the gate.

The Pony gave them a look of calculated disdain. Its ears flicked back angrily for a moment, but then Taashari patted its neck and they twitched forward again. The Pony snorted, resolved to its task.

“Do you need a hand getting on?” Krem asked.

“Nope, I’ve been practicing.”

“Will you give your mother a hug goodbye before you go?” Katari asked.

Bull carefully took the reins while Taashari threw herself into her mother’s arms. Katari dropped kisses into her daughter’s hair and stood so that Taashari’s feet pulled off the ground for just a moment. Taashari giggled, happy in the light of her mother’s attention.

“Be good,” Katari said, as she let go.

“I will,” Taashari said.

Katari watched them from the gates as Bull, the Chargers, and Taashari rode off. She stayed there until they reached the curve in the mountain path and disappeared from sight.

  

* * *

 

The road down from Skyhold had been improved over the months since they’d arrived at the Keep. Adaar’s builders had put themselves, and any spare hands, to the task once the weather had improved. The animal trails they’d hiked through had been replaced by a clear and winding road, shored whenever it came too close to an incline. 

It was springtime, and the birds were singing even with so many people on the march. Skinner and Dalish were riding point, with Stitches and Grim holding the rear. The kid was riding between Bull and Krem, in a protective measure that was likely unnecessary. The boys were on their best behavior, but Bull was fairly sure they were an hour away from a really inappropriate joke.  

“Hey Bull,” Taashari said. “Can I ask you a question?”

“You just did,” Bull replied.

“Nooo!” Taashari replied. “You know what I meant!”

Her little, round face scrunched up, but the annoyance seemed mostly faked.

“Ha, yeah I know. You can ask me anything.”

“Is it true that you and the Inquisitor fight demons?”

He met Krem’s eyes over Taashari’s head. Krem held his hand up and mouthed the words _I don’t know_ , which was real helpful of him, while Taashari looked at him with youthful interest.

“Yes,” Bull said, carefully. “Sometimes we do.”

“Is it scary?”

“It is scary.” Bull wasn’t going to lie to her, not about that. “But we have a lot of practice, and we don’t bite off more than we can chew. Got to be cautious though.”

“How do you do it?”

“I don’t think I can answer a question like that quickly, takes a lot of training to be able to fight one. I must have been in my twenties before I ever had to.”

“That was a long time ago,” Krem said.

“Did you hear that, Taashari? Krem’s offering to clean my armor.”

Taashari giggled and Krem laughed, his teeth bright in the morning sun.

“Could you teach me?” Taashari asked, once she’d stopped laughing.

“I think you’re a little young,” Bull said.

“The other kids say I’ll have to, that everybody does. Do they have Harrowings in Par Vollen? Mum said she didn’t know, but maybe you do.”

All the Mirth on Krem’s face dropped like a stone. Bull felt a dull, heavy pain in his heart that had only become more familiar in the past months.

“I’m afraid I don’t know either,” Bull said. “But I don’t think so.”

“I should’ve asked when we were in Orlais, there were some mages there, from the old country and stuff.”

“You lived with other Vashoth?” Krem asked, voice soft.

“Yeah, it’s safer that way, and nobody calls you names.”

“People at Skyhold are calling you names?” Bull felt like a mabari with its hackles raised.

“Sometimes, but not so much anymore. Madame froze someone in the hall once and now most people don’t want to try it.”

Why hadn’t Vivienne _told_ him. Why hadn’t he heard about this?

“You know you can come to me, if anyone gives you trouble,” Bull said.

“To any of us,” Krem added.

“That’s nice of you!” Taashari said. “Thanks.”

The worst thing about it was how unbothered Taashari sounded. As if the thought of being forced to fight a demon or being insulted for her very being were the same as discussing the price of peaches. Bull hadn’t considered before that even children who were loved well, as Taashari was, might bear the trauma of being Vashoth, of being born into an uncertain world.

“Do you think your friends will come to Skyhold as well?” Krem asked.

“No, most of them have gone on to Nevarra because of the rifts. They’d probably have gone to Antiva but Kirkwall’s still a bit cranky about qunari, so it’s not easy to travel through there, I guess?”

“You must miss them,” Krem said.

“Yeah, but we write letters. Meraad draws me pictures sometimes.”

“Tell me about Meraad,” Bull said.

Taashari happily prattled about the life she’d left behind, and Bull listened with an eager ear. He felt a quiet pleasure at learning more about her that warred with the guilt of knowing he was part of the reason she had needed to leave her home in the first place.

The morning light shone on their faces as they reached the bottom of the mountain, and the trees thinned. The outpost they were visiting was only a few miles further down, next to the river that brought them news from Val Royeaux. Red had requested that the Chargers bring her the latest set of intelligence reports, far too large to be carried by crows, and so they would.

 

* * *

 

When they stopped at the outpost, Dalish took Taashari aside so she could teach her some Elven archery. Krem had decided to supervise, which mainly consisted of him shouting praise whenever Taashari did anything. Bull was stuck doing real work.

A good few of the scouts at the outpost were people Bull didn’t recognize, but there were enough of Leliana’s men present that he wasn’t overly worried about it. In among the fresh faces was Lieutenant Farrow, a blond, shortish man who was viciously accurate with a bow. An actual bow, with actual arrows.

“Cute kid,” Farrow said, instead of a greeting.

“Yeah, she is pretty cute,” Bull replied.

“Didn’t know you had a daughter.”

“You’re not the only one to think we all look alike. Would’ve thought an Elf would know better.”

“You say that to everyone who calls you out about your secret lovechild?”

Bull gave Farrow a very dry look. Farrow grinned widely.

“We may not have had that discussion yet,” Bull admitted. “So keep that to yourself.”

“Tell that to the whole camp.”

“Yeah, yeah, get me those reports, would you? I want to get back up the mountain before sundown.”

Farrow picked up a tightly bound package, wrapped in nugskin, and handed it to Bull. It was about as big as one of Dorian’s books, and not overly heavy.

“I think this is a waste of my talents,” Bull said drily.

“But not a waste of your considerable discretion,” Farrow replied. “I wouldn’t let new blood carry that anywhere.”

“Lucky me. You got anymore news from the road?”

“Saw a bear the other day, we ran it off, but it could’ve headed up the mountain.”

“Don’t tell me that, if anything bigger than a dog shows up, her mother’ll never let me take her out again.”

“That’s what you get for being an absent parent,” Farrow replied.

Bull pushed Farrow’s shoulder so hard that the man squawked, and half fell over. Bull walked away without a second look.

“Stay safe, Farrow,” Bull said.

“Fall in a ditch!” Farrow shouted. “After you deliver that package!”

 

* * *

 

They ate ram pie for lunch, with sweet crepes for dessert, filled with lemon juice and sugar. While they waited for the food to go down, Krem showed Taashari how to play cat’s cradle, his face bright and smiling as he turned a single piece of yarn into a spire for her amusement.

Bull watched them and wondered at how he could feel so grateful that every step in his life had led to this.

 

* * *

 

The birds went silent on the ride back up the mountain.

“Off the horses,” Bull said. “Put your reins over the pommel. Don’t stop them if they spook.”

They weren’t going to outrun a bear on a horse, but something told him they weren’t going up against a bear. With the horses still, Bull could hear rustling ahead, from both sides of the road.

“Bull?” Taashari said, fear curling in her voice.

“Krem, stay with the kid. Don’t worry, Taashari, it’ll be fine.” Bull pulled his axe from its holster, his shield from the saddle of his horse. “Stitches, hold back. Rest of you with me.”

Krem drew his sword, then pulled Taashari to his side. He held her between his shield and his armor. Stitches was at Krem’s back, eyes open for anyone who tried to flank them. The horses were behind them, which was better than leaving them between them and whoever was in front of them, but not ideal should any of them decide to canter home.

“Get out here,” Bull said. “We’re not getting any younger.”

A branch broke underfoot to Bull’s blind side. Bull turned towards the sound but only a little. Grim had taken his left so he only had Skinner to his right, and as good a fighter as she was, she was in light armor with daggers. Grim had plate and a greatsword.

“Well met, Inquisition.” A man, though barely, stepped from the trees at the side of the road.

He had a Fereldan dialect, maybe by way of Denerim. There were plenty of reasons why he might be so far from home and not a one of them was happy. He had patchy, ginger stubble on his face, but his hair was lighter, almost blond. He had a confident expression that had been shared by many of the fools that Bull had removed from the lands of the living.

“I’m going to offer you something,” Bull said, very evenly. “This doesn’t have to end in blood if you don’t want it to. If you walk your men down this road and leave us be, I’ll let you live.”

“We outnumber you by five men!” Idiot. “What reason have we to parley with you?”

“I’m the Iron Bull. These are my Chargers.”

“What’s that supposed to mean to me?” Fucking. Idiot.

“I’ve been killing people on a daily basis since before you were born. You’ve caught me on a good day. You don’t have to be one of them.”

“How’s about I make a deal with you? You die quietly and that fat little calf behind you gets to do the same.”

Bulls blood went cold.

“Krem, cover her eyes. Dalish, arrows.”

The Fereldan boy opened his mouth, a triumphant grin upon his face, just before Dalish’s bolt of lightning fried him alive. He hit the ground smoking.

“Barrier on Stitches and the kid,” Bull said, as bandits came sprinting out of the trees. “Keep count of how many you take down.”

Bull killed the first one, a human woman with tears in her eyes, brought low by the cut of his axe across her throat. She jerked and gurgled as she died, blood spurting from between her clutching hands. The second, an older man, earned himself a vicious gut wound when he tried to come up on Bull’s right side.

“That’s three,” Bull shouted.

“Four,” Skinner replied.

Another crack from the heavens. The smell of rain and charred flesh.

“Seven,” Dalish said.

A scream cut off into a whimper. Grim grunted at them. Eight.

There were two more before them, eyes bright with fear, seemingly very aware of just how bad a fight they’d picked.

“I told you,” Bull said. “You don’t have to die today. Just throw those weapons down and hit the dirt. You’ll live.”

They were both human, as young as any of their cohort, with short black hair and pale brown skin. Same eyes and cheekbones, different noses. Brothers. Antivan, probably. They looked to each-other for a moment, their expressions unsure, their lives hanging on the edge of one final choice.

They chose wrongly. The second one screamed in agony when the first died on Grim’s sword. It was a mercy when Skinner slit his throat.

There were ten bodies on the ground, air thick with the scent of blood, shit and piss. Bull could hear Taashari crying behind him, Krem muttering quietly ‘don’t look, don’t look,’. Bull clenched his fists tighter.

Then he realized it wasn’t just Taashari he could hear crying.

He looked at Grim and cocked his head towards the sound of weeping. Grim nodded and walked lightly to the side of the road. He groaned when he found what he was looking for. Bull heard a short, sharp scream before Grim came back, a child dragged on the road behind him.

He couldn’t have been more than fourteen, dark-haired and skinny though he was. Elven. He had Dalish armor but no Vallaslin. He screamed again, low and long and terrified, when he saw the bodies. He had a knife held in his two shaking hands. He swung it once and Grim smacked it out of his grip.

“Ir abelas!” The boy said, his voice broken by tears. “Ir abelas, ir abelas!”

“What a fucking mess,” Bull said. “Tie his hands. Dalish, send up a signal to the outpost then talk him down.”

Bull turned towards Krem, who held his shield between Taashari’s face and the carnage before them. He was holding her against him. Bull could see her small hands, white-knuckled as they gripped Krem’s leather armor. Her tears had turned to exhausted, syncopated sobs.

“Chief,” Skinner said, when Bull took a step towards them.

“What?” Bull asked.

She pulled a rag from her belt and gestured at Bull’s torso. He looked down and saw a spray of red across his chest. It had hit his leather brace and his pants, which were, smallest of mercies, dark fabric for once.

“Shit,” Bull said.

He pulled out his water skin and wet the cloth in his hand. He wiped the blood away as quickly as he could. He wiped off his axe as well, too experienced to throw it aside even for the comfort of a child.

“Start pulling the bodies off the road. I don’t want to the kid to see them. Leave a marker out just in case. Get Dalish to ice them before they start attracting wolves, or that fucking bear.”

“Yes, Chief,” Skinner said.

Grim followed her. Dalish stayed, voice low as she spoke words of comfort to the boy they’d taken as prisoner. Bull threw the bloodied rag off the side of the road and walked down the road to his daughter.

“Stitches, would you mind getting the horses together?” Bull said.

Stitches nodded and after that it was just Krem, Bull and Taashari. Bull moved down the road, so she wouldn’t have to look at any of the bodies on order to see him.

“Hey kid,” Bull said, as he crouched down to her level. “I’m sorry. That was really scary, huh?”

Taashari nodded. Her cheeks were stained with tears and her lower lip trembled. Her entire body shook. Bull put his hand on her shoulder, brushed a stray tear away with his thumb.

“I want to go home,” Taashari said, her words hitching.

“I promise, we’ll get you home soon. You can ride up with me.”

He was never going to be able to make up for this.

He heard something crashing through the forest, near the horses. There were only meant to be eleven men.

“Chief!” Dalish shouted. “There’s twelve of them!”

Bull had six men, the bandits had five more. Except Bull didn’t have six men. He had six men and Taashari.

Bull pushed off from the ground, but he was older, slower than he had been, and Krem had a child in his arms. The last bandit appeared, another fool, young and furious with a bastard sword in his hands. There was nothing between him and Stitches, the only one of them with barely any combat experience.

Taashari screamed, high and afraid, and just as the sword bore down on Stitches’ shoulder, a barrier snapped into existence around him, bright and thick and blue, and so powerful that the blade actually bounced off it. Bull would’ve laughed at the surprise on the man’s face, at any other time.

Then he turned his eyes towards them, and Bull knew he was going to kill him.

Except- a thin hand curled around the man’s mouth, dusted in a fine, dark powder. The bandit snorted, choked. His eyes rolled back. He fell into waiting arms, his chest still moving with every breath.

Cole looked up at them from beneath his broad hat.

“She called me,” Cole said. “I wanted to help.”

Bull turned, and there was Taashari, her grey face turned white, her staff in her hands, held with Vivienne’s posture. She dropped it in the dirt.

“Daddy!” she screamed, thrown back into a wild panic, one more trauma added, one more weight on her young mind.

Bull turned from Cole, took the few steps between himself and his daughter and pulled her into his arms.

“ _I’m sorry, I’m sorry,_ ” Bull said. “ _I’ve got you, you did so well._ ”

“ _I want to go home_ ,” Taashari said. “ _I want_ Mum.”

“ _We’ll go now, I promise, we’ll go right now. Just hold on, kiddo._ ”

Krem looked at Bull with mild surprise, and Bull realized he was doing something he never did when he was in front of his boys. He was speaking Qunlat.

“Hey, Cole,” Bull said.

“Yes,” Cole replied.

He still had an unconscious man in his arms.

“There anyone else around here, between us and Skyhold?” Bull asked.

Cole cocked his head like a bird. He looked up the road.

“There are some animals,” Cole said, thoughtfully. “They’re hiding now. They didn’t like the noise.”

“Krem, Cole, you can ride up with me,” Bull said. “You hurt at all, Stitches?”

“Just rattled, Chief. I’m fine,” Stitches said.

 “I want the rest of you to wait here for Farrow. Pat the bandits down then keep them tied and separated. If no one gets here before dusk, I want you to ride hard for the Hold. Put the boy on the Pony and strap the other one on Grim’s horse. You get that?”

“Yes Chief!” Skinner, Dalish and Stitches said, in unison. Grim nodded.

Bull mounted the saddle of his Courser and had Krem pass Taashari up to him. She curled into Bull’s chest, her cheek against his shoulder. She still shook but only rarely, the way soldiers often did after a fight, when their blood finally began to cool. Bull pulled the lyrium vial from her pouch and had her drink it. Krem kept her staff, strapped to his back. Cole disappeared but somehow Bull knew he was there. Could feel him in the wind somehow.

If only he’d come earlier. But he couldn’t have. He only came after someone started hurting.

 

* * *

 

Bull didn’t turn his head up until he heard the door open. He’d waited for hours, as patient as a dead man. Red had her intelligence reports. There was nothing else to do.

“She’s asleep,” Katari said quietly.

She joined him on the bench across from her door. Her room looked out onto the upper ramparts. The guards often stopped there of an afternoon, to enjoy the view or eat lunch. The bench was for them. Usually.

“I’m sorry, Katari,” Bull said.

The setting sun had painted the entire keep purple and red. He’d heard the rest of his boys arrive not long ago, but he hadn’t gone to them. He had Krem for that.

“Please say something,” Bull said, when the silence drew out.

“I shouldn’t have let you promise she’d be safe with you,” Katari said.

Oh, but it hurt more than he’d expected.

“Yeah, that’s fair,” Bull said.

“You misunderstand me.”

Bull turned to look at her, and saw her eyes heavy with sorrow, her shoulders slumped.

“This isn’t the first time she’s seen men die, Bull,” Katari said, her lip curled into a pained grimace. “It’s a long way from Antiva to Ferelden.”

She sniffed loudly, rubbed at her eyes with her sleeve.

“It’s not a safe world, nobody can give her that just by wanting to,” she said.

“I won’t take her out of the Keep again,” Bull said.

“You’re going to have to,” Katari said. “You were right before. If she thinks the worst will happen, she’ll never leave again.”

“There shouldn’t have been bandits on the Inquisition’s road. I can’t promise there won’t be again.”

“The Nightingale will have the mountain watched more because of this, at least for a while. I need you to take her out again until she loses her fear. I don’t want it to destroy her.”

Bull rubbed his good hand against the base of his horn. He nodded, reluctantly, in agreement.

“She said some things, today,” Bull said.

“Like what?”

“She said people at the Keep call you names.”

“Some did worse. Vivienne stopped it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Bull asked.

“You were off at the Emprise. You were not there to tell,” Katari said. “Perhaps we should have kept to the fiction that I was your wife.”

“We all know you can do better.”

Katari pushed him with her hand and Bull pretended to be swayed by it, shifting his shoulder back.

“Oof,” he said.

“Foolish,” Katari replied.

“You know you can come to me, if anyone starts anything. Or the Chargers, if you need to. If Ma’am’s not around, anyone in the inner circle would go to bat for you.”

“Even that Tevinter?”

“He’s alright. Got a lot of conscience underneath the hair wax.”

“The Elven man.”

“Pick him last. He’ll help you, he’ll just grill you on your life choices while he does.”

“He has tried before.”

“Sorry.”

“He can apologize for himself.”

“Good luck with that.”

Katari stood and Bull remembered one more thing he had to speak with her about.

“She called me her father today,” Bull said.

Katari turned to him and rolled her eyes.

“That is because she is not an idiot, Bull,” Katari said. “Goodnight. I need to go cry quietly until I can sleep.”

“Let me know if you need to hit me with a stick or anything.”

“That is a stupid practice drawn from a misrepresentation of mine.”

“I find it therapeutic.”

“Goodnight, Bull,” Katari said, more firmly.

He bowed to her and she returned it, albeit only slightly, when she closed her door to him. He blinked, and then Cole was beside him.

“Hey, Kid,” Bull said. “Got any insights for me?”

“I could make her forget,” Cole said. “And then it wouldn’t hurt anymore.”

 “I can’t make that decision for her.”

“You want to, though. You wish it had never happened. Mostly.”

“Yeah,” Bull said. “Only mostly.”

 

* * *

 

“I don’t want to go,” Taashari said, the next day.

She’d spent the morning in the stables. Bull wanted to confirm that she wasn’t scared of the horses. She’d been subdued, but happier after she got to see Snuffles and The Pony. The Pony, for its part, was a model citizen even when it was in Bull’s hands. It lipped carrots and apples from Taashari’s palms and didn’t try to bite Bull once.

“I know,” Bull said.

He was holding The Pony’s reins, even though Taashari was seated in the saddle. His plan for the day was to walk them over the drawbridge and just a little down the road. They’d go farther the next day.

“Have you seen the nuggalope?” Krem asked.

He’d asked to come, and Bull had been grateful for it. He was seated on Bull’s Courser, only in light armor, with his sword on the far side from Taashari.

“What’s a nuggalope?” Taashari asked.

“It’s like a nug but huge. Walks on its knuckles. Bet we could get Dennet to let you ride it if we ask nicely enough.”

“I dunno, it might hurt Pony’s feelings.”

The Pony’s right ear flicked back, then forward again.

“See how we go,” Krem said.

They were halfway across the bridge.

“How is Stitches?” Taashari asked.

“He’s good,” Bull said. “You saved his life, you know.”

“I did?”

“You did. He wants to thank you. Maybe we can visit him after this.”

“Ok.” Taashari said. “So, it was good that I was there?”

“You were really brave, and you stopped someone from being hurt. I hope it never happens again but I’m really proud of you.”

“Even though I was scared?”

“I was scared too.”

“Really?”

“Of course I was,” Bull said.

More scared than ever, since he’d met her. Happier too, it seemed.

They let her get off the pony once they were on land again. She looked for flowers in among the clover, never straying too far or too close to the forest.

“You know, I always wanted a sister,” Krem said.

“You did, huh?” Bull replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bull and the Chargers kill some bandits. The bandits emotional responses to the battle, along with physical violence, are described. Taashari is nearby and does not see this happen but does hear it. She experiences emotional trauma as a result of this. The beginning of her recovery is also shown.


End file.
